The Dead Don't Have Dinner
by icecreamcastles
Summary: 5 non-conversations. One inappropriate text alert ringtone. - IrenexSherlock (one-shot)


**_The Dead Don't Have Dinner_**

**_Irene/Sherlock_**

**_PG (PG-13?)_**

**_Summary: 5 conversations. One inappropriate text alert ringtone._**

**_AN: Takes place after Reichenbach in New York City._**

**_Disclaimer: Not my characters. This is just my own personal way to deal with having to wait for Season 3._**

* * *

_**one.**  
_

_I know you're not dead. Let's have dinner. - IA_

She doesn't expect an answer. Not really, but she _does_ know because if she herself is a secret wandering in plain sight it is more than just playing at chance that so is he.

She follows the papers back in London. Has a wicked interest in watching the spectacle as Jim Moriarty plays his way through the entire system because she was being honest. That is her kind of man.

One day the papers back in London report 'Suicide of a fake genius', and she laughed the moment she read the headline on the internet because faking genius is_ almost_ the most genius move of them all.

So no. No expecting.

And then she hears it. An alert tone that she was sure would be dead and forgotten as she was. There were a few gasps from people around her at the intimate noise she had recorded on Sherlock Holmes's phone so long ago.

_I know you know. - SH_

Pops up on her mobile.

She slides out of her chair with a faint smile on her face, gathering her coat and walks out of the café.

_**two.**_

_I know you're not hungry. Let's have dinner. - IA_

The sound of said text being received is somewhat dimmed down since they are taking the subway and the constant noise of movement is much more evident.

She is up front. He is at the very back.

She jerks slightly forward when they stop at their next destination; the loud booming crackly voice emitted from the speaker above informs the passengers of that as well. This is her stop. She moves along with the people huddling their way out.

It's later that day, dark out. She hails a taxi when her mobile screen lights up.

_The dead don't have dinner. - SH_

_**three.**_

It's been a month since the last text. Possibly more than a month. What can she say? She's a busy girl.

_Stop being a bore. Let's have dinner. - IA_

She imagines where exactly he is at the moment. Is he walking down the street where traffic will no doubt drown out the soft moan or, even better, is he somewhere that is incredibly inappropriate for such a sound to go off?

She imagines sentiment isn't the word to latch on to the reasons he kept that ringtone. Then again she imagined it would have been deleted immediately after their little dance had come to an end.

_Still not hungry. – SH_

_Still sorry about dinner. - SH_

_**four.**  
_

_You're missing out. I'm having dinner. – IA_

"Who are you texting?"

She smiled over at her lover, Kate. "Dead people."

Kate laughed just as their order was being set on the table.

"Do the dead have much to talk about?" she asks.

Irene hears it soon enough. Not too close but not far enough for it to go unnoticed unless you were in on the secret.

She's sure he knows exactly how much distance that would take. Worked it out in that impossible brain of his.

"Well you and I are talking." Irene gave Kate a knowing look yet keeping eye on a certain someone as they leave.

Dinner is had then she and Kate walk down the streets of New York hand in hand.

She sent one more text before bed.

_Pity you left without dinner. You looked hungry. - IA_

**_five._**

The restaurant is not high class. There are little bits floating around the glass of water which indicates that so she's not touched it.

Her latest client requests a meeting at breakfast. According to him it won't elicit suspicion meeting a dominatrix if it's daylight out.

The poor man isn't even twenty-four, lives with his grandmother and sells body products for women. God help her she _can _be nice. It's such an awful trait, she thinks.

But then again, there is a treat sitting at the next table.

The newspaper is hiding his face but those hands. Oh, those hands couldn't belong to anyone else.

_Breakfast? And here I was under the impression you didn't eat at all. - IA_

Seconds pass and his text alert goes off.

She smiles when the newspaper is set down, folded neatly on the table. He doesn't look at her, not a glance. The side of his mouth twitches. Amusement perhaps.

_Well now, is that a smile Mr Holmes? - IA_

He shoves his mobile into his pocket, throwing some money on the table and walks right by her. The bell at the front door giving a jingle and he disappears into the streets of New York City.

She knows his secret now just as he'd known hers. It's only fair after all.

Her phone vibrates.

_I have breakfast. I don't have dinner. - SH_


End file.
